Very Complicated
by forestwife
Summary: Time is complicated. Things don’t always happen in the right order. Jack encounters the Doctor for the last time. But then he meets him 3 more times, as someone else, before they knew each other the first time round... Confused? Yeah... me too.


Disclaimer: I don't Doctor Who or Torchwood

SUMMARY: Time is complicated. Things don't always happen in the right order. Jack meets the Doctor for the last time. But then he meets him 3 more times, as someone else, and before they knew each other the first time round...

Warnings: Nothing serious, but there's mentions of blood, death, injury, and then there's Jack just being himself! (don't say I didn't warn you!)

Very Complicated

Captain Jack Harkness was Immortal.

He'd never wanted to be. Hell, he'd never wish this on anyone, let alone himself.

Sure, he hadn't wanted to die when he had. But at least it had been heroic. Going out in a blaze of glory, defending the Earth and protecting Rose and the Doctor from the Daleks was his idea of an acceptable way to go.

If he'd had a choice, there was no way he'd have chosen this alternative... he'd have taken death any day.

It was the year 3450. Jack was well over a thousand years old, and by this time almost everyone he had loved was long dead. His original Torchwood team: Owen, Ianto, Tosh, Gwen... they'd all died over a millennia ago. And Rose, the 21st century shop girl that both he and the Doctor had loved, she'd be nothing more than dust by now as well.

There'd been others since then of course, Jack wasn't completely alone. But every time he met someone, despite what he told himself, it was impossible not to grow to care about them. And it only got harder to watch them die.

Remembering all those he'd lost, Jack thought that he now knew how the Doctor must feel, constantly watching companions come and go however much you loved them. He didn't know how the man did it for so long. Although, now he thought about it, the last time he'd seen the Doctor, the Time Lord had been alone. Jack wondered if he'd finally had enough of being the one left behind.

The Doctor was the only one left that Jack had, the only one who had not been dragged away by the passing of time. Of course he wasn't around _all_ the time, he had other things to do after all: travelling space and time, saving the world... that sort of thing – Last of the Time Lords sort of stuff. But he still came and saw Jack sometimes, and his sporadic visits were something that the Immortal clung to, however much he tried to deny it to himself.

But by now it had been many years since the Doctor's last visit, and Jack was beginning to fear that said Time Lord had finally run out of luck, and was never coming back.

The ex-time agent ran his hand through his greying hair and looked around at the street around him. People were bustling about their business, no one paying any particular attention to the retro-dressed man standing in the middle of the pavement.

Still looking around, Jack noticed someone he hadn't seen before, a figure staggering down a nearby alley. Now that in itself was not an untypical sight in this city, even in the middle of the day, but it was a different matter when the figure stumbled and fell... and didn't get up again.

Jack almost groaned. In the old days, he would have probably just left the man there. But ever since he'd met the Doctor, he'd changed. He'd used to be an opportunistic conman only looking out for his own interests. But after that whole incident in the London Blitz, he no longer just looked out for number one. And while he hoped it was a change for the better, it did make his life a whole lot more complicated

He jogged over to the fallen figure, and as he drew closer, he frowned in confusion. He'd been expecting a drunk, someone who'd had a few too many in drowning the sorrows that no one in this busy city had time for... except the bartenders.

But even just at a glance, Jack could tell that this guy was no ordinary drunkard. He was a young man, maybe mid to late 20's, no more than 30 at the most, with long-ish untidy dark brown hair and pale skin. He was also very attractive, something that Jack noticed instantly. That was one thing about himself that definitely _hadn't_ changed.

However, the thing that had really caught his attention was that the man was also dressed _very_ strangely for the time they were in. He was wearing faded jeans and a dark blue shirt, it's sleeves rolled up nearly to his elbows, and looked more like he'd fit in in the early _21__st_century than here. But perhaps the most unusual thing was that the man was wearing about 5 or 6 watches up one arm, all of various styles and levels of technology. Some of them didn't even look like they were of earth origin.

But Jack didn't really have time to puzzle over this because it was at this point that he noticed that one of the man's hands was pressed to his abdomen, and was covered in blood. Hurriedly, he pulled back the sodden fabric only to reveal a very large stab wound marring the man's torso. A wound that could very easily be fatal.

Jack looked at the state of the man, and cursed. He felt the man's neck desperately for a pulse. It was weak and very erratic, but it was there, and that was the most important thing.

Just then, the man stirred and looked at Jack with the brightest blue eyes the immortal thought he'd ever seen. "Well it would be you wouldn't it," he muttered, an Irish lilt to his voice.

Unsure of who the man thought he was, Jack ignored the strange comment, putting it down to possible delirium and said, "Don't worry, you're going to be fine. I'm just going to get some help."

Then Jack made to get up. But with a surprisingly strong grip for someone in his condition, the man grabbed the bottom of Jack's long coat. This obviously caused him a great deal of pain, and he moaned slightly before speaking in a strained voice, "Don't."

Jack hesitantly crouched back down again, and the man continued, "It's good to see you, Jack."

The Immortal looked at the wounded man in front of him in confusion. He was sure he'd never met the guy before, _that_ he was sure he'd remember. "Do I know you?" he asked.

The man coughed, fighting for breath, but didn't say anything. He just grabbed one of Jack's hands and put it on the left side of his chest. Jack felt the man's heartbeat, weak and erratic, just like his pulse. Then the man put Jack's hand on the right side of his chest, and Jack felt the exact same thing. The man had two hearts.

"Doctor?" Jack asked, incredulous.

"The one and only," the Doctor replied weakly, "Little worse for wear I'm afraid. You're looking good though, Jack."

"Wish I could say the same about you," Jack said, looking pointedly at the Doctor's abdomen. "What happened?"

"Oh, I got careless," the Doctor said dismissively, "Note to self: stay away from the pointy end of swords."

Jack managed a low chuckle at the way the Doctor could still joke even in the most dire of circumstances, just like these.

"Only fitting it's you here, I s'pose," the Doctor murmured, his eyes drifting shut.

"What're you talking about?" Jack asked. He got no response. "Doctor!" he called, getting the Time Lord's attention, "what do you mean?"

"I was there for your death, even if I didn't know it was you at the time," the Doctor explained, "Seems fitting that you should be here for mine." With the last sentence, he started coughing again, a hacking, wet-sounding cough that made Jack suspect that the Doctor probably had internal bleeding.

Jack wasn't surprised to find that he had little reaction to the news of his own death, he was just relieved to discover that he _would_ die. The only thing about the news that disconcerted him and his vanity was the fact that the Doctor hadn't known it was him at the time. How much could he have changed? And what on earth must he have looked like? Jack barely dared to think.

But there wasn't any time anyway, because something else the Doctor had said had caught far more of Jack's attention. The part where the Doctor had said he was going to die.

"C'mon Doc," he said, smiling winningly at the man, "Your time's nowhere near up yet. You're going to be fine."

But Jack could tell that the Doctor didn't believe him, "Jack," he said gently, smiling sadly, "You know as well as I do that this is a mortal wound."

"Jack glanced down at the blood covering the Doctor's skin and had to agree. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything to you. You're a Time Lord, you can regenerate! A stab wound is nothing to you."

"Not this time, Jack," the Doctor replied wearily.

Jack felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice on him. It wasn't until this second that he actually feared that the Doctor would actually _die_. He was the Doctor! The Doctor didn't die! If something knocked him down, he'd bounce back up again smiling. If something knocked him down harder, he'd struggle up still smiling. And if something knocked him down dead, then he'd regenerate and _still_ come up smiling! There _was_ no other option!

"Why not?" he asked, too afraid to be embarrassed at the high than normal pitch his voice seemed to have taken, "All you have to do is regenerate. Just regenerate!"

The Doctor managed a small, pained smile at the request, "I'm not like you, Jack," he said, with an effort, "I can only cheat death a limited number of times. Now my number's up. This was my last life."

Jack still didn't want to believe it, "No, no, c'mon on," he said, almost desperately, "You can't die. You're the Doctor! You've been around for... I don't know how many years, but you can't give up now! You can't leave me..." he added the last bit in a quiet voice.

"You're right, Jack. I've been around for a long time... too long perhaps. I'm not afraid, Jack."

"I am," Jack almost whispered, knowing that the Doctor would hear him anyway, "You know what it's like having everyone die around you. I've seen the loneliness in your eyes. I don't want to be left alone."

But the Doctor just looked at Jack with his expressive blue eyes, and said, just as he would have done in his last incarnation that Jack had seen, "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry."

So Jack stopped arguing. There was nothing the Doctor could do to stay. It seemed that the man had finally run out of tricks. And there was nothing he could do to save the Doctor, he knew that. So instead of saying anything, he pressed a brief kiss to the man's lips, just as he'd done so long ago.

Then he chuckled at the memory with a sad, reminiscent laugh. "It seems like I'm always kissing you goodbye," he said, and the Doctor smiled, also remembering.

"There's just one thing, Doctor," Jack began, unsure of how to continue. He hesitated, and then asked, "You were at my death?"

"Yeah," the Doctor rasped, "Me and Martha."

Jack remembered Martha, one of the Doctor's many companions, and one who'd also be long gone by now. "So I do die?" he asked, almost desperately. He just had to know that it would all end someday, however long it was in coming. He just had to hope for peace someday.

The Doctor nodded briefly, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

Jack hesitated, knowing the question he wanted to ask, but almost afraid to hear the answer. In the end, he decided, "How long?"

As soon as he'd asked, Jack knew that the Doctor had been waiting for this question. "A long, long time," he replied, and Jack could see the apology in his eyes, "Funny," he continued, on a slightly lighter note, "I never thought I'd be outlived by any of my companions, let alone a human one." He looked back at Jack, his tone serious again, "I didn't know it was you."

Again, the horrible thought hit Jack of what he must've looked like in the future, but there was no time to dwell, as the Doctor rambled on, probably slightly delirious with blood loss by now. "So many things I would've said, but I didn't know it was you... You changed your name, you looked different..." he looked at Jack again, and the immortal was surprised to see the beginnings of tears in the Time Lord's eyes. "I didn't know it was you," he whispered.

The Doctor managed to focus on Jack's face for a moment as he said, "You're a good friend, Jack. You always have been." His voice cracked, "I'm sorry for everything you've suffered because of me."

Jack did his best to reassure the Doctor that it was ok, but by now the man barely seemed to hear him. He was off in a world of his own, one where Jack's words couldn't reach him. There seemed to be nothing Jack could do, and he felt completely useless.

"There're legends that say you're millions of years old..." the Doctor muttered. Jack said nothing to this. He didn't know what the Doctor was talking about, or even who he thought he was talking to, but he listened none the less. "And the legends say he has a secret," he continued, "one he will tell only one like himself, the last of his kind. The wanderer, the man without a home. The lonely God..."

For a second, the Doctor seemed to shake off the confusion that was holding him and became almost coherent, looking at Jack, "We met for the third and last time, and you told me the secret. It was how I knew who Professor Yana was, that he was a Time Lord, the Master," he said, his voice fading.

Jack was entranced by the Doctor's words, "What was the secret?" he asked, his voice low.

The Doctor's eyes glazed a little and he said in a weak voice, "You... Are... Not... Alone..." Then he took a finally rasping breath and his eyes slid closed as he breathed no more. The Last of the Time Lords was dead, their once great race was extinct.

By now, Jack couldn't stop the tears forming in his eyes, "Yes I am," he whispered, closing the Doctor's eyes and pressing a kiss to his forehead. He sat there in the alley for quite some time after that, unable to accept that the Doctor, his last great friend was gone, and he was alone. Somehow, Jack couldn't believe that he was really dead for the last time, the man had cheated death so many times that it was like a second nature to him, so to succumb to it at last was almost unthinkable.

But it was true. It had happened. And Jack now knew that he was going to be alone for a very long time. He'd already been alone for a long time, he supposed, but at least that time had been broken up by sporadic visits from the Doctor, and they were always something to look forward to. In time, the Doctor had even managed to shake off some of the animosity he felt towards Jack. It hadn't been the man's fault, he'd explained that it was a gut feeling, an instinct, and Jack believed him. But that hadn't made his attitude towards him any easier though. However, with time, over the visits, the Doctor had managed to mainly push it aside, and things had almost been as it was before. But now the Doctor would never come again and Jack was truly alone.

And so the years passed, with Jack growing older and older and less like himself. Eventually he left his old name behind too. He no longer felt like Jack Harkness. It hadn't been a big deal. After all, he'd changed his name many times before. But these days, Jack had to admit that he understood what the Doctor meant by not knowing it was him. Hell, his own mother wouldn't have recognised him now.

But just as the Doctor had said, he and Jack, or 'The Face of Boe' as he was now, met 3 more times. The first time, Jack thought that if he still had legs he would jump for joy. It had been his first Doctor, with his leather jacket, big nose and ears, and his manic grin. Then there was Rose, looking so young and... lost. Jack remembered that Rose had told him that this had been her first trip, and to be honest, it looked it. On that particular occasion, Jack hadn't had the opportunity to speak to the Doctor or Rose, but he supposed it was for the best. At seeing them, all his old memories came rushing back, and he may not have been able to act as a stranger to them when he'd known them for so many years, and missed them for so many more.

The second time, Jack had truly wondered if the Doctor had made a mistake and miscounted their meetings in his confusion. He had dared to hope that that had been it and he was dying. But then when the Doctor had answered his call, in his next incarnation and with a much more experienced and confident Rose, the Time Lord had once again been able to find something going on, and make a lot of chaos. Jack had laughed to himself about that. Only the Doctor could have found plague carrying humans, made by cat-nuns in a hospital. So, Jack had left, using his old teleport, which had been broken and repaired more times over the years than he could count.

Then there was the third time. Jack had known it would come, and had never been so relieved when it did. The Doctor was there, just as he'd said he was, so he passed on his message, just as the Doctor had said he would. And when it came down to it, Jack was glad that the Doctor was there. As the Time Lord had said so many millennia before at his own death; it was fitting.

And so it was that the Doctor was there at Jack's death, just as Jack had been there for the Doctor millions of years previously.

It should have been impossible. But then again, whoever said time was linear? As the Doctor had once said to a young woman called Sally Sparrow; time's not what you think. It's complicated… Very complicated.

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A/N: So... what did you think? This idea came to me a long time ago, and it's sort of evolved since then... it's also the first time I've ever killed off the Doctor... or written any sort of non-canon death at all really, so I hope it's ok. I wrote this Doctor with Cillian Murphy in mind, who while I don't think would be quite right for the part of the Doctor, is a fantastic actor.

Yeah, so... please read and review!


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